My time of pain

July 11, 2012
By Frank Anderson BRONZE, Hollandale, Mississippi
Frank Anderson BRONZE, Hollandale, Mississippi
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

It was game day at my high school. We were playing the Jaguars and I was in the zone, focused only on the game at hand. How was it going to be? How I should play during this game? All this was going through my head, making me tap my foot impatiently waiting for this game. School to me seemed to take forever and I was ready to play.

Game time finally rolled around and I was dressed in my uniform. I thought to myself, ‘Let's go; there no stopping us.' The game started with me on the bench, and as every second and minute passed by, I faced suspense. It was tearing me up inside wondering when I would get in.

It's the 3rd quarter, and Coach yelled, ‘Frank, go get Archie!' and I was thinking, ‘its about time you put me in.' Being on the court made me feel tremendous. We had it the way we wanted it and I had already blocked five shots and adrenaline was coursing through my veins.
It was the 4th quarter and there were four minutes left on the clock. I got the rebound and shot a short ranged jumper, but it was blocked. The ball hit my hand and there was a crack, but because of all the adrenaline flowing through me, I didn't take notice.

I was fouled and was sent to the line for two free throws. All that was going through my head was ‘you must make these shots.' My first shot went in and then my second. I just shot the winning free throw and as the time ran out, the fans in the stands rushed onto the court like herd of cattle. With all the screaming and shouting, you could hardly hear yourself think. We were ecstatic, running all over the gym, so to get away I headed to locker room to cool down.

As I reached the locker room, a sudden pain took off like a rocket up my arm. I saw that my pinky was broken and went to find my mom. She took one look at my finger and rushed me to the hospital. As we rushed down the highway, my mom changed from lane to lane as she violently passed each car.

We reached the hospital, and my mom rushed to the counter and said, ‘My son's finger is broken.'
‘One second please.' said the nurse.

‘No, my son needs service now!' yelled my mom.

Being in fear, the nurse ran and got a wheelchair as if she were a frightened kitten. I was in this dull and lifeless place, full to the brim with sick, old, and dying people. As I was being rolled down the hall, the pain in my arm dramatically increased like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. I reached the surgery room and was treated immediately.

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